


baby blue

by atramento



Category: Saints Row
Genre: During Canon, Eye Trauma, Hospital Sex, Injury Recovery, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Semi-Public Sex, Some Humor, cheeky reference to SRIV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28931232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atramento/pseuds/atramento
Summary: Loren feels like complete shit and his eye is gone. Killbane's priorities are, as per usual, not quite in order.---The "eye trauma" tag is not because there is any inflicted within the story-- it is because it is after Loren's introduction, when he was injured by Gat. Fear not, gentle readers, there will be no gore here if I can help it. <3
Relationships: Phillipe Loren/Eddie "Killbane" Pryor





	1. Chapter 1

In public and among their own people Phillipe maintained a pristine reputation of being the level-headed and unflinching boss for both their business front and the Syndicate respectively. He had to; many upstarts and long-time rivals would love nothing more than for him to show weakness in his age. Sometimes he wondered if his current two associates, Killbane and Miller, were waiting for the same. 

Well, they would all no doubt have their chance here. Phillipe was lying on his back in a hospital bed and bandages were wound about his head and over  _ the one _ eye tightly enough to disrupt his center of gravity if he tried to stand or--

"Had to wring your room number out of the desk operator." Entering the quiet room like a humongous parade float was Killbane, wearing his ridiculous pink and green feather boa over that equally garish green suit of his. At least, Phillipe thought with disdain, he had forgone the tacky golden jewelry this time. 

“You listening?” Killbane’s voice rose back into Phillipe’s conscious and the two leaders exchanged irritated looks. 

“Pardon if I am not able to fully listen with medication in my IV and half of my head bandaged.” Phillipe replied in his most polite-- and curt-- voice that he could manage. “What is the word?” 

Killbane scoffed unhelpfully. “Hell if I know; I just came here after hearing your plane ran into some... turbulence.” 

“Turbulence.” Phillipe began. “Is not the same as those defiant little Saints.” 

“That’s who did this to you? That’s who--” Killbane gestured to his own eye, undamaged and squinting. “--That’s who fucked up your eye?” Killbane was to the point, if nothing else. But he often glossed over finer details in his enthusiasm. Such as who had inflicted this damage and what his fate should have been. 

“Johnny Gat did this to me.” Phillipe sat up, wincing lightly as his head throbbed and spun. “He might have killed me if not for that irregular alien attack--” 

“Alien?! ...you really are on medication.” Killbane scoffed. Phillipe sighed as a response; it wasn’t  _ his  _ fault that the possible encounter had occurred on a falling plane while he was missing the use of one whole eye.

“So maybe it  _ wasn’t  _ extraterrestrials. Johnny Gat is still gone regardless and we still have a slight infestation of purple nuisances here in Steelport.” Phillipe gestured with his hand, deeply wishing he had a cigarette to smoke about now. 

“You want me to put them out of their misery.” Killbane leaned back in the ill-fitting foldable chair and it creaked with his muscle mass. 

Phillipe sighed and almost nodded. Right now it would have been bad to nod so instead he focused his eye on Killbane’s hulking figure near him and his bed. It wasn’t hard, the man was wide enough to have two of Phillipe himself standing side by side in front of him and still be visible. Loren even opened his mouth to affirm that yes he wanted the Saints disposed of when Killbane took a deep inhaling breath and sighed himself. 

“You look fucking miserable.” 

“I do feel rather wretched, yes...” Phillipe admitted. In normal cases, Phillipe would not have admitted his discomfort at all. But he was already lying prone in this bed and Killbane hadn’t, well, killed him yet. So why not? 

Killbane looked back at the TV softly emitting some commercial jingle, then the hospital door, then back to Phillipe. “You’re gonna be here a while then, huh?” 

Phillipe nodded. “And hardly anything to pass the time with as well. It’s going to be a long night...” 

The smirk that slowly impressed itself upon Killbane’s face was not one that Phillipe found reassuring in any capacity. Still, he sat up a little and lifted his one visible brow to attempt conveying morbid curiosity. “So... Phillipe... not looking forward to a long night in this bed eh? I got an idea or two...” 

A single brow raised was to remain the sum of Phillipe’s reaction. “Since you’re bein’ silent, I’ll take that as you bein’ interested.” Killbane rubbed his chin with one of his large hands as he spoke. 

“I might be.” Phillipe tilted his head forward slightly as the bare indicator of a nod. “What exactly did you have in mind?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Gentle.” Loren warned as Killbane played with his silk scarf. He watched as the wrestler then slid it off with surprising ease and wrapped a side around one of his wrists. “Really? My scarf?” 

“Quit whining... This is so you don’t go smackin’ yourself in the eye while I pound the fuck out of you.” Killbane grunted as he tied Phillipe’s one wrist tight to the bed frame. “Put the other one up there now, like a good old man.” 

_“Like a good old man?_ ” Phillipe hissed despite doing exactly as Killbane asked. “...connard suffisant...” 

Killbane snorted and chuckled a little as he tied Phillipe’s other wrist. “Would you prefer the nickname Antwerp?” 

“I--” Phillipe opened his mouth and then closed it. And repeated this a few more times before, in a much lower voice, repeating himself.

“Yeah yeah, just be glad I’m willing to undress you...” Killbane shook his head, hands already working to undo the clasp on Phillipe’s belt. “Sheesh, how fancy is this? Even I don’t--” He grunted and struggled with the belt more. When he saw Phillipe smirking he growled.

“Stop being so fucking smug, Loren, or I’ll leave you tied up for the nurses to find...” Killbane turned his gaze downward again-- and even through his wrestling mask the frustration could be seen. 

Phillipe shrugged as best as his wrists would allow. “I didn’t say anything...” 

“Didn’t need to, fucking smug french fry.” Killbane wrenched the belt open, finally grinning himself. “Ahah, like that you glittery bastard?” 

Phillipe blinked calmly. “...first off, fries aren’t French. Second off, are you talking to my belt?”

Killbane’s frustration visibly deepened on his face and Phillipe clicked his tongue before he could stop himself. The luchadore was no moron; he would not be the leader of a gang if he had absolutely no intelligence to speak of. That did not make Phillipe’s own frustration with this current turn of events any less pointed at the other man, however.

“Why are you even wearin’ this?” Killbane finally gestured to the malignant belt. “What purpose does it serve, other than bein’ annoying as hell to deal with?”

Philippe sighed. “Does the word ‘presentation’ mean anything to you, monsieur Killbane?” He stared directly at him, a serene blue eye peering at Killbane and his own leery brown eyes. He was not afraid of anything this man could and might do to him now, he--

Killbane grunted as he picked up Phillipe’s belt and tore a section of the leather apart, making an open spot where he could slot most of the belt out. The indignant noise made was not enough to stop the man’s proud grin as he took the rest of the expensive band out of Phillipe’s pristine trousers. “Like Alexander cuttin’ the knot, Phillipe.” 

Phillipe looked livid. “You best tie that knot back when you are done, monsieur Killbane. That belt was worth--” Killbane held up a hand.

“Eh, take it out of my wages then.” Killbane suggested with an air of casualty that Phillipe found quite inappropriate, given what they were preparing to do. 

“You are absolutely--” Phillipe was interrupted by Killbane tugging and almost completely swiping his trousers off of his body. “--a menace.” He finished his sentence with a soft sigh. This was hardly going to end well was it?

**Author's Note:**

> I laugh evilly as I unleash this fic monster onto the world,,


End file.
